


The War Inside

by alphades



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Multi, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphades/pseuds/alphades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's pack is forced to face desperate measures when it is revealed that Stiles is possessed by the Nogitsune. Their personal issues seem to be the least of their worries, when they find themselves fighting a losing battle. And with all this chaos engulfing Beacon Hills, they must race against time to save not only Stiles, but themselves. Based on 3b. Multiple Pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Infestation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own "Teen Wolf", nor do I profit in this story other than the satisfaction of becoming a better writer. I do not claim to own any of these pre-written characters. All belong to the creator, Jeff Davis, and various copyright holders.

* * *

 

**The War Inside**

Chapter 1a

"Infestation"

* * *

 " _I wanna hide the truth,_

_I wanna shelter you._

_But with the beast inside,_

_There's nowhere we can hide._ "

Imagine Dragons Demons

* * *

 

There was something different about _him_. Maybe it was his hands. The way they coiled around the edge of the metal lab table, gripping until his knuckles grew white. His finger nails gnawed and raw. Maybe it was his chest. The way it rose and fell more so in trembles, his body seeming to rattle like the end of a snakes tail. Maybe it was his eyes, the way they flickered open, glazed over and empty, as though he was hidden inside himself. Or maybe it was his lack of identity, when he finally shot up, a deafening scream escaping from his mouth, and the veins in his neck growing more visible the longer he held it. It was undeniable. There was some thing different about _Stiles Stilinski_. Something terribly wrong that none of his friends and family could quite come to terms with. Something that he himself had yet to even understand.

Stiles Stilinski, was _possessed_.

It had taken awhile for his friends to figure out. He was Stiles after all. Dorky, hyperactive, sarcastic, lanky—saw his only form of a weapon in a wooden baseball bat— _Stiles_. He had been the last person anyone would have guessed to be chosen as host to a dark kitsune spirit. Therefore he had been over looked. So much so, that everyone had failed to realize that he was the only one unmarked. The only one who had been most affected from being resurrected. The only one who had failed to close the door in his mind. The only one left with enough vulnerability for a dark spirit to creep into his mind, and slowly take over. They had missed all signs, and now it was seeming to be a bit too close to too late.

"Stiles," Sheriff Stilinski pushed himself quickly off of the counter he leaned against, making his way towards his screaming son. Deaton's hand pressed against his chest, stopping him in his path. "He needs me. I need to let him know he's awake."

Deaton gave a silent shake of the head before speaking. "I'm afraid this is not a night terror Sheriff. He is only reacting to the sudden rush of pain from the poison i've injected in his neck."

"Pain? What pain? You said he would be okay!" Sheriff Stilinski roughly pushed Deaton's hand off of his chest, shoving a shaking finger in his emotionless face.

Scott took a step forward, placing a damp hand on the Sheriff's shoulder, droplets of water falling from his hair. Sheriff Stilinski whipped around. His sudden anger melted away as he stared at the 3 teens in front of him. Scott, Kira, and Lydia. Scott looked like an injured puppy. His hair sticking to the water on his forehead, hands trembling on the wound in the center of his abdomen that was slowly healing, his face pleading for Sheriff Stilinski to calm down. Kira stood, eyes wide as she held an ice pack to her head, where a bruise was forming. And Lydia, the banshee, had her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes boring into Sheriff Stilinski. She was trying to stay calm, but he could see her body shake as she took in a breath of anticipation, her throat muscles tightening as she swallowed down her nerves. He had scared them, which only scared himself. They didn't deserve any more stress that night. Especially not from him. Not when his son was the reason for all of their pain and struggle that night.

"Sorry," he sighed. "But that's what you said." he turned back to face Deaton. He could hear a quiet release of breath behind him as the teens calmed.

"No, I said he would not feel much pain while being injected, I never said anything about after. I poisoned the spirit, not Stiles. At the time of injection your son was not in control of his body, something else had taken his place. Therefore it was not possible for him to feel the pain of the chemicals i've placed in his bloodstream. Now that the spirit is poisoned, Stiles has regained control. He is feeling everything the poison entails, but it will only last for a few more seconds." Deaton assured, turning away from Mr. Stilinski to watch as the young boy's screams began to grow quiet. "You see? He just had to wait it out."

Sheriff Stilinski's shoulders relaxed as he released a breath he wasn't even aware he'd been holding and relief washed over him. "He's okay?"

"For now" Deaton gave a short nod, glancing back at Sheriff Stilinski.

Stiles, now in a sitting position, stared at the walls before him. Chapped lips agape, as silence escaped him. His eyes brimmed with the tears created from the pain he'd only minutes ago felt all over. He wasn't sure of where he was. He didn't know how or when he'd ended up on the cool metal lab table. All he knew was that, a moment ago, his skin had felt as though it had been lit on fire. He was almost sure he'd been burned from the back of his neck to just below his left shoulder blade. Everything ached. His throat was sore and dry from all the screaming he'd just done, and he had never felt as weak as he currently did.

He had no clue of the events that had occurred over his lost time. It was as if he'd been in a coma, completely oblivious to the world outside of his own head. Nonetheless he knew something was wrong. For days now, he'd been trapped inside his own body. Lost in the darkness of his own mind. It had felt as though somebody was wearing him as a costume. His skin no longer his own. His thoughts, no longer private. One body, shared.

The thought sent a shiver through his spine, and his neck twitched just as his thoughts were interrupted by a hand clasping his own. He flinched at the contact, the glaze over his eyes dissipating as he snapped back into reality. Blinking twice, he lifted his eyes to the person in front of him.

"Dad?" His voice came out no more than a struggled rasp. His voice, weak from nearly tearing a vocal chord with his pain inflicted screams.

His dad said nothing. He only pulled Stiles into a tight hug, slapping his hand around his sons shoulders and instantly causing Stiles to grunt out in pain. Sheriff Stilinski lifted his hands out of instinct, pulling out of the hug with his hands up. "What? What is it? What hurts?" His voice filled with concern as he examined his sons pained expression. His friends tensed at the sight.

"My neck.." His hand rose from off of the metal table, fingers feeling stiff from how hard he'd been holding on. "It feels like I've been burnt." He barely placed his fingers on his neck before hissing in pain. "Ah, yeah. There's something wrong."

"Deaton?" Scott's voice rang throughout the room, looking to his boss for an answer.

Stiles froze in his position, hand on his neck and eyes hesitantly lifting from the ground to Scott, as he realized there were other people in the room.

Scott, feeling eyes on him, flicked his own over to Stiles. His eyebrows lifted slightly, not prepared for this moment. The last time Stiles had been awake, he'd almost killed him. He may have been his best friend, his brother, but it was hard for him not to feel different towards him. Hesitant, even. He'd been fooled once by the trickster spirit that inhabited his best friends body. He wanted to be sure that this time, that wouldn't be the case. Still, he cleared his throat, hearing Stiles' heart rate begin to pick up speed, and gave him a closed lipped smile. It was weak, but apparently enough to push back down Stiles' growing anxiety.

Scott could hear Stiles' heart rate begin to slow back to normal pace, and with that he broke their gaze, bringing his attention back towards Deaton. Stiles however, looked back at the ground. Scott had given him a smile, assuring him that every thing would be fine, even though Stiles knew it wouldn't be. Although he appreciated his friend's attempt to keep him calm, he still felt a sickening feeling as though something terrible had happened between the two. A feeling that if they didn't figure out a plan, terrible things would continue to happen. Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts down and looked back up, craning his neck to listen to what Deaton had to say.

"Lift your shirt for me please," Deaton walked towards Stiles, pulling gloves on.

Stiles frowned, letting his hand drop back down. "What? _Here_?" He glanced around the room, specifically at Lydia. His disorientation not strong enough to make him forget the fact that he was being asked to get partially naked in front of the girl he'd been in love with since the third grade.

Deaton followed Stiles' gaze. When seeing the young boys focus was on Lydia, he stepped in front of his view, arms crossed. "It will only be for a moment. I just need to see some thing."

Stiles was forced to face Deaton's demanding face, sucking in a sharp breath as nerves washed over him. "Yeah, Uh, okay." He nodded, swallowing.

It wasn't as though he'd never taken his shirt off in front of half the people in the room. Aside from Kira, he was pretty sure everyone in the room had practically seen him naked before. Scott and he had known each other since the bathtub ages, His dad was his _dad_ , and Deaton and Lydia had seen him changing that night of the ritual when he'd ripped off his soaked shirt to replace it with a dry t-shirt and flannel. So, it should not have made him as sick to his stomach with nerves as it was, but somehow he still found his hands shaking as he reached for the collar of his shirt. He let the darkness engulf him, taking longer than usual to pull the shirt over his head, feeling safe hidden behind the fabric. However, he knew he couldn't hide forever, and so after a few unnecessary extra minutes he took to get it over his head, he pulled the shirt completely off, crumpling it into a ball to give his hands something to do.

He shivered slightly as the coolness of the air in the room bit at his skin, and he made sure to keep his eyes locked on his hands. "So," he began, chewing the inside of his cheek. "What is it?" He felt Deaton's fingers brush against the skin on his neck, and he bit back the urge to jerk away in pain. He was doing pretty well. That was, until Deaton's fingers pressed against his left shoulder blade and the pain became too unbearable.

"WHA— _Okay_!" He yelped, sliding quickly off the lab table. He stumbled, the use of his legs almost feeling foreign, before steadying himself. "That's enough pain for Stiles. Yup." He breathed.

"That's quite alright, I was finished." Deaton informed pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash can.

Everyone watched him carefully, awaiting to be informed on what exactly was wrong with Stiles.

"It's called a Lichtenberg figure," Deaton stated. "They usually appear when—" He was interrupted.

"—one is stuck by lightening." Lydia completed, speaking up for the first time since she'd arrived. Even now, when she spoke, it was more so as though she was thinking aloud, rather than addressing the room of people. When silence greeted her comment, she blinked, breaking from the trance she had been in. "Sorry, I just," her eyes landed on Stiles for a brief moment, and then she bit her lip and looked away. "I knew what they were." It was like watching a deer in headlights.

"No, don't apologize, you're correct." Deaton gave her a nod of recognition. Lydia returned the gesture with a weak smile, but it didn't take long for her to separate herself from the rest of the group, returning to the trance she'd been in.

Stiles, once more reminded of her appearance, struggled to pull his shirt back on. It took him a little longer than usual, but he finally got it back over himself, and he let out an irritated huff as it fell over his abdomen. He caught Lydia's gaze on him from his peripheral vision, but chose to try and ignore it, and focus on the conversation.

"Well, what does that mean? Cause last time I checked, I haven't been struck by lightening." Stiles pointed to himself.

"I'm not sure. The fact that they're appearing on you after a shot of wolf-lichen is both significant and strange." Deaton squinted his eyes in thought.

"A shot of," Stiles paused, frowning. "A shot of _what_? Wolf-lichen? Why would you give me a shot of wolf-lichen? I'm not even a wolf."

Everyone in the room shared silent looks, and it didn't take long for Stiles to catch on. " _Guys_!?"

Scott was the first one to speak. "Stiles," he tried and then shook his head, realizing he didn't even know how to explain it. How do you tell your best friend that they're possessed? That for the past few days their body was taken over by a dark spirit? And that in the midst of said possession, he nearly killed Coach, The entire police department, Kira, and Scott himself. how? Answer: he couldn't.

Deaton gave Scott as much time to speak as available, before deciding he would have to be the bearer of bad news. Placing a hand on Scott's shoulder, he looked towards a very lost Stiles.

Stiles could sense it. Something was wrong with him. He knew he was right. He knew that they were about to tell him something terrible. Some thing that would change everything. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. " _What_?"

"Stiles, The night you, Allison, and Scott sacrificed yourselves to save your parents, I warned you that their would be a darkness around your heart." Deaton reminded. "That, in a sense your mind should be treated as an open door, very vulnerable to the evils that exist on the other side." Stiles could feel his breaths become short. "I believe, that somehow, whilst your mind was ajar, a dark spirit has managed to infest your mind."

Stiles parted his lips to say something, but nothing came out. For a moment, he stood frozen. His eyes darting back and forth as he tried to let what Deaton had just said sink in. "Are you meaning to tell me," Stiles' voice cracked. "That I've been possessed by a dark spirit?" Stiles wasn't stupid. He knew that was exactly what Deaton had said. He understood completely that he was just informed that he was in fact possessed. And even though it brought sense to everything that had been going on—the blackouts, nightmares, sleep walking, panic attacks-he still found it hard to swallow. Him? _Possessed_? You'd have to be a pretty stupid demon to want to possess the only human with no supernatural qualities as a host.

"It's called a dark kitsune," Now it was Kira's turn to speak. "An evil fox spirit." She lowered the ice pack from her head, revealing the bruise. "Japanese legend call it Void or more commonly, a Nogitsune. They draw power from pain and tragedy, strife and chaos." Her hands moved as her speech flowed, almost elegant. "I read that dark kitsune's usually have no moral sense of good or evil, so if a Nogitsune is offended, it will react badly." she nodded towards Stiles. "I'm assuming the Nogitsune that's possessed you, is _highly_ offended." she twisted her lips.

"Yes, exactly. Thank you, Kira." Deaton eyed her, surprised at the amount of information she had brought to the table. She'd done half the job.

Stiles' world grew blurry, his chest tightening. This was all too much. Stuff like this wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was the normal one. Or at least normal in terms of the chessboard. He had thought the door in his mind had been closed. He had finally been able to read again, and he was actually sleeping a bit better. Well, not really. But he'd managed to get at least an hour last time he'd slept, which was an improvement in his eyes.

"Wait, how are we so sure it's me?" He attempted to offer another option, "I was just at the hospital the other day. I got an MRI. They were looking for frontotemporal dementia. I have all the symptoms that would explain everything. I mean, that's got to count for something, right? What if I'm not possessed just sick?" That was a pretty good argument if he'd said so himself. However, judging by the looks he'd received, he knew he was wrong.

"I would say that's a very valid point Stiles," Deaton ran a hand over his bald head. "Though I'm afraid we are no longer _assuming_ you are possessed. We now _know_ , you are."

Stiles' eyebrows furrowed, but as he watched Deaton subtly cock his head in the direction of his friends, it all clicked into place. Scott's hesitance towards him when they'd first made eye contact. The wound in his abdomen, framed by the large hole in his shirt, as if someone had stabbed him. Kira's bruise, and the way she'd tried to keep slightly behind Scott when she had addressed Stiles. As if she wanted to keep a barrier between her and Stiles. Like a fence that was meant to separate a baby lamb from a lion. It didn't take Stiles long after Deaton's hint, for him to realize in horror what he'd meant when he'd said they knew he was possessed. They knew because he was the one who had done this to his friends. His hands were those that had created the bloody wounds and forming bruises on both Scott and Kira. The thought of it was enough to make him feel sick. His expression transitioned from one of confusion, to guilt and shock.

" _Oh my god_ , what have I done?" He whispered. Just like that, the bridge of his nose began to burn as his felt the tears traveling through his face up to his eyes. "I almost killed you, didn't I?" He clasped a hand over his mouth. When Scott didn't answer right away, Stiles' hand dropped. "Oh my _god_!" He shouted, squeezing his eyes shut as he bent over, placing his hands on his knees.

"Stiles," Scott took a step towards his friend. "It's okay, it wasn't you." He ducked his head in attempt to see Stiles' face. "And, look, I'm already healing." Scott lifted his shirt ever so slightly, to reveal the wound which was closing up. "See?"

Stiles stood up straight, his eyes watery. "Scott, I almost _killed_ you." He spoke through gritted teeth. "Alright? That's far from okay. _Nothing_ is okay."

"We're going to fix this. I told you I would." Scott tried to calm him, but Stiles was way past the point of being calmed. No amount of counting fingers or kissing Lydia would stop the attack he knew was coming. Contrast to popular belief, he was not strong. At least not strong enough to handle the fact that he'd almost killed his best friend.

Stiles shook his head, stepping backwards. "Wait a minute, wait a minute!" He blinked wildly. His palms were growing clammy and he could feel his throat beginning to close up. A panic attack was rising, and it was taking everything in him not to let it out. "You said you shot me with wolf-lichen, I mean what, is that like, some sort of.. Japanese form of an exorcism?" He spoke quickly, running his fingers through his hair. "What's going to happen now? What.." he trailed off on his words.

"Stiles, you'll be fine. At least if we have anything to do about it, which we do." Deaton bowed his head. "I shot you with wolf-lichen to poison the Nogitsune. It is not an exorcism but, it has given you back control of your body for the time being."

"For the time being? So, what? You're saying this thing is still inside of me?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

"Technically yes, but it has no idea of how to take back control. It's back to stage 1 of possession. Infestation." Deaton walked over to one of the cabinets above the sink, pulling out multiple pill bottles. "This is the stage where the spirit will try to make itself known to you. Usually this is done through unexplained moved objects, tapping on the walls, etc." Deaton placed all the pills on the table. "With you, this stage of Infestation will be different. Seeing as the spirit is no longer outside of you trying to possess. It's already found it's way in. With the poison, it's only lost in the depths of your mind. So it will make itself known through giving you hallucinations, making you hear voices, that sort of thing." He eyed the lettering that lined the pill bottles, examining them.

"So what, we just wait it out until it gets strong enough again to possess me, and then we're right back to me attempting to kill people?" Stiles ran a hand over his face, his skin calloused and rough. His panic attack was sitting in the pit of his stomach just waiting to be freed at any moment.

"No. We find a way to remove the dark spirit before that happens." Deaton placed some of the bottles back in the cabinet, 3 remained.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Sheriff Stilinski asked, squeezing the brim of his nose. He looked tired. The stress and confusion of the events that were occurring, wearing down on him.

"For starters, we have to make sure Stiles stays awake, he's much more vulnerable when he sleeps. This is how the spirit sped the possession process up before. Through his dreams." Deaton addressed Sheriff, handing him the pill bottles.

"That shouldn't be a problem. I haven't slept in weeks." Stiles sighed.

"Yes, well, just in case, these should do the trick." Deaton motioned to the pill bottles in Sheriff's hands. Sheriff Stilinski read each label carefully.

"I've never heard of these." Sheriff Stilinski lowered one eyebrow whilst lifting the other.

"That's because they're not legal." Deaton pointed out.

"You're giving my son illicit drugs?" The sheriff tilted his head, wiggling the bottle.

"They're only meant to keep him awake for abnormal periods of time. One pill should keep him up for about 2 days straight. When he gets tired, he takes another. And so forth." Deaton pressed his hands onto the lab table. "It will only be for a few days while we figure out a plan to remove the dark spirit. We only have a limited amount of time before the spirit reaches it's full strength again. So we can't take any chances for the time we have."

"Limited? How long are you talking here?" Stiles felt a lump form in his throat.

"It's hard to predict really. It all depends on your Lichtenberg figure. When it starts to fade the spirit will return." Deaton nodded.

"And what happens if it does?" Stiles questioned, his curiosity still in him.

Deaton paused, not saying anything as he took a moment to look back at Sheriff Stilinski and his friends. He then put on a smile. "We won't need to worry about that. It won't happen."

Stiles slit his eyes at Deaton. He was keeping something from them. He'd been hesitant when answering that question. It gave Stiles an uneasy feeling. Something told him that if the spirit returned there would be no "fixing" it that time around. Only "eliminating the problem".

Despite his thoughts, he played along, pursing his lips and asking no further questions.

"Okay, I think that's all I can do for you right now. If we want to find a way to remove the spirit, I've got to get to work. I will notify you all if I come across anything important." Deaton shoved his hands in his pant pockets.

Everyone stood for a moment, unsure of when to move, or what to say in closing. Sheriff Stilinski was still re-reading the bottles. Scott, as always took the initiative, grabbing his leather jacket from off the counter and sliding it on, wincing slightly.

"Thank you Deaton." He spoke quietly, as if only Deaton was meant to hear it. The way Scott had said those words, told Stiles it wasn't just a thank you for the information, but for something more than that. Something that had must of occurred when Stiles had not been in control of his body.

He watched as Scott made his way towards him and Stiles almost flinched, too ashamed to look at his friend. He couldn't look down though, for his eyes would only land on the red blood where Scott's wound had once been. He had no choice but to face him. He wished he could have still been oblivious. Still protected by the veil of unknown.

"Hey," Scott placed his hand on the side of Stiles' face. "Listen, don't.. don't worry about," he glanced down at the place his wound once was. " _this_." he looked back up. "Honestly. I know it wasn't you. You had no control over it."

"Yeah? What about her?" Stiles looked towards Kira, who was waiting by the door, jacket thrown over her arm and helmet in her hand. She was prodding at her bruise lightly with her fingers.

"Same thing goes. Besides, she wasn't too surprised. She didn't think you liked her to begin with." Scott tried to lighten the mood, but Stiles only continued to stare at him with tear filled eyes.

Scott's face fell. "We'll get though this, Stiles. We're _brothers_ , remember?"

Stiles tightened his jaw then to fight the tears from falling. "Yeah," he wiped under his nose with the back of his hand swiftly. " _Brothers_."

Scott smiled then, wrapping his arms around Stiles and then pulling back. "I'll see you tomorrow. Mom said I could take off school to be with you while we figure all this stuff out."

Stiles gave a half-hearted thumbs up, watching as Scott disappeared with Kira. He sighed, his head dropping. He heard his dad begin to ask Deaton a few more quick questions about the pills, and he rolled his eyes, prepared to stop him when a pair of champagne colored heels came into his view.

 _Lydia_. He thought she'd been the first one out.

He lifted his head to look at her, eyes filled with wonder. With everything that had been going on, he hadn't gotten a chance to really look at her. In fact he pretty much avoided making uncomfortable eye contact with her the entire time. But now that he saw her, he couldn't look away. The panic itching under his skin, fading. She looked as though she'd been crying, her eyes red. The charcoal makeup smeared a bit beneath her lower lid. Her hair was up in a bun, a braid holding it together. It looked a bit messy, as though she'd forgotten it was in a bun and had tried to run her fingers through it. She hadn't slept. He knew that much. Possibly missed a meal or two as well. To be frank, she looked like absolute shit. Yet, he still found the beauty in her fragile state. She looked at him with her bright hazel eyes, as if she wanted to say something, but she couldn't get it out.

"Lydia?" The moment he said her name it was as if he'd surprised her. She jumped backwards, and his arms instinctively reached forward, steadying her. " _Whoa_.." he mumbled. "You okay?"

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, her hands resting on his forearms as he helped her to stand straight. "Yeah, fine." she whispered, and then her eyes fluttered open, staring up at him. "My ears have just been... _sensitive_ , lately." her speech slowed as their eyes locked and she found her mouth closing. Stiles searched her eyes, confused. She looked as though she was just realizing he was in front of her. She suddenly removed her hands from his forearm, wrapping them around herself. "Um," she tucked her lips in. "Sorry."

Stiles clicked his tongue, knocking his right fist gently against his left palm. "No, don't worry about it." He breathed in deeply. "Just glad you're _fine_." He gave her a look to notify her that he had called her bluff. As usual. For as long as they'd become friends, Stiles was always the one that could tell when Lydia was hiding something. Lydia looked away sheepishly, and for a moment Stiles could see a flicker of pain flash across her face, before she cleared her throat, looking back to him. When she realized he was studying her she tilted her chin up.

"I," she rubbed her hand up and down her arm. "I just wanted to tell you that,... _I'm here_ , if you need me." she finally said. She looked uncomfortable saying those words. Lydia was never one to show emotion towards anyone. She was very keen on keeping her walls up, ever since Jackson. Stiles couldn't hide his shock. He saw how panicked she looked after the words left her mouth, her eyes looking anywhere but him. Like she was afraid he was going to laugh at her for being so sincere. He settled, his eyes tracing her face.

"... _Thanks_ , Lydia." He said softly. She stopped looking around, as brown met hazel once again. After a few moments of comfortable silence between the two, Lydia finally gave him a weak smile, nodding.

"Of course," she began to fumble with the locket around her neck. The two stared at each other, a comfortable silence surrounding them. "Well, I should probably get going. Don't want my mom to worry..." She turned towards the door.

"Right, yeah." Stiles called after her. He knew that there was stuff left unsaid, but he figured it could wait. They had bigger issues at hand than the unspoken emotions between the them.

She stopped in her tracks, turning on her heel to face him. "Stiles,—" she stopped as she remembered that Deaton and Sheriff Stilinski were still in the room. She had now gained their attention as well as Stiles', who was already meeting her from across the room.

"Yeah?" He asked expectantly.

Lydia's eyes were focused behind him, and he knew she was worried about his dad and Deaton hearing whatever she was about to say all by seeing the look on her face. When she finally did focus back on him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, balancing herself as she stood on her toes. Stiles stopped breathing, when he felt her breath on his ear. "Stay Awake." was all she said, and then she was already back at the door. The time of her being that close to him seeming much longer than it had been.

Stiles looked after her, watching as she glanced back at him for a final time before exiting the room completely.

His dad was behind him then, tucking the pills in his coat pocket. "Alright, we should head out. Get you _home_..."

Stiles nodded absentmindedly, his mind still thinking about what Lydia said. His dad led the way out, and he followed suit, his head hung low. He felt like a monster. Scared of his own shadow. He was the real life story of _Jekyll &Hyde_, and he never thought in a million years that he would be the one people would have to look after. He was the person who always figured things out. The one who always had a plan B prepared for even the worst times. But as he sat in the passenger seat of his dads car, watching the world whizz by, he realized that he could have never prepared enough for this. The day that his friends looked at him as though he might lunge at them at any given moment, the day his dad could barely look at him without seeming like he was about to cry, the day he saw his reflection, and felt as though a complete stranger was staring back at him. Somewhere along the way, Stiles had lost himself. And now that he was supposedly possessed, he wasn't sure he was ever going to find himself again.

As they arrived in the driveway of his house, he placed his hands over his father's as his dad moved his hand to put it in park. "Dad," he hadn't even known he was going to speak until the words left his mouth. His father stopped, keeping his foot on the brake and not parking the car yet. Stiles' lip trembled almost unnoticeably, "...I can't go in there." He admitted, not daring to look at his father's face.

Fact was, he didn't feel that place was _home_ anymore. Home was where one felt _safe_ , and in that moment, he didn't feel anywhere was safe. Not for himself, but for his friends, his family. He didn't know what he was capable of. Hell, he hadn't even known he was a hazard until tonight when he'd woken up expecting to be in a hospital bed, and ended up screaming on a lab table. Now that he knew what was wrong with him, there was no going back. He couldn't take what he knew out of his head. Especially now that it was all he could think about. What he did, who he'd hurt. He was sure there had to be others he'd caused trauma to aside from Scott and Kira. The others most likely hadn't told him to save him the guilt. But it wouldn't have changed anything. He already felt guilty, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Even if Scott did have the power to heal. Even if Kira smiled at Stiles when she'd left Deaton's office. He still felt guilty. He still felt like at any moment, he could lash out and harm someone else. And with the thought of possibly hurting Scott again, or even worse—his dad—and idea came into his head that he couldn't ignore.

"I think I should be put in a psychiatric hospital," Stiles could see his father beginning to protest, and he cut him off before he could. " _Just_ for the weekend! ...Until Deaton finds something, I need to be sure that i'm not going to hurt anyone else." The words flew out of his mouth, desperation dripping from his voice.

"Stiles..." His dad closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Dad, I almost killed Scott. Okay? _Scott_. My best friend, who I grew up with. Who I consider my brother. Who you consider your second son. I almost _killed_ him. Ended his life. If Deaton hadn't of shown up, he would have been _dead_. His mother would have been planning a funeral, and you would have had to put handcuffs around my wrists, and put me in a cop car. That's if I wasn't killed by werewolves first." He turned in his seat to face his dad, clicking off his seat belt. "I would never in a million years, think of hurting Scott. So the fact that in that moment, no matter how much I care about him, I couldn't control the fact that my hands were the ones stabbing a sword through his stomach..." Stiles couldn't even finish his sentence at the thought of it. "Dad.. next it could be you. It could be Lydia. or Allison. Whether you choose to admit it or not, until Deaton finds some way to get this dark spirit out of me, I am a danger to everyone I've ever cared about. I can't take the chance of what I did to Scott and Kira happening again. I _can't_."

Silence filled the car, the only sound was the humming of the engine and the beeping of the car signaling that the passenger seat belt was off. His dad had yet to look at him and Stiles could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knew the idea was crazy. That, if the dark spirit were to come out again before the weekend was over, a psychiatric hospital probably wouldn't be able to confine him. But it was the only thing he could think of that seemed logical. So there he was, awaiting his dads answer while he chewed on whatever was left of his thumb nail. A habit he'd picked up a long time ago when he got nervous or anxious.

When his dad finally turned to him, eyes sad as he contemplated what he son had offered, Stiles' heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

"This is really what you want?" His dad seemed to be fighting an inner battle with himself, his hands gripping the wheel.

Stiles hadn't expected that question, but he recovered quickly, nodding. "Yes." It wasn't really what he wanted. Could anyone really want to be put into a place filled with schizophrenics and nurses who shot you with multiple drugs if you so much as talked back to them? Of course not. But he felt he had no other choice. He had to do this. He had to protect his friends and family from himself.

His dad snapped the gear into park, resting his head against the steering wheel and breathing heavily. Stiles knew this had to of been hard for him. The last time they'd been to a psychiatric hospital, they'd dropped off his mother. She had never come back out of that place. At least not alive. Her situation was obviously different, but it still brought the same amount of pain to his father's heart. Stiles twisted his lips, feeling terrible for putting his father through this again. He didn't deserve it. He'd worked so hard to try and raise Stiles all by himself. Never expecting to land in the situation they faced today. Stiles had failed him, not the other way around. And he felt horrible.

"I'm gonna be okay." Stiles forced out. Trying to convince his father, even though he could barely convince himself.

His dad's body shook with each breath he took, and when he sat up again, staring out the windshield, Stiles could see the tear stains glimmering slightly on his cheeks. Stiles' shoulders sank and he slouched back in his seat, his head resting against the window.

"...Okay." His dad finally agreed. His voice was watery, but he tried to cover it up by clearing his throat.

Stiles' eyebrows rose at this. " _Okay_?"

"Yeah.." His dad wiped his mouth. "I'll take you." The worry lines creased in his forehead. "Do you want me to call Scott?"

"No," Stiles scratched the side of his face. "I don't want any of the others to know, they'll just try and stop me."

"I should be trying to stop you." His dad said numbly.

"No you should be respecting my wishes, which you are. You're doing the right thing dad." Stiles did his best to ease the self doubt he could sense growing inside of his father.

His dad looked at him, and soon after he turned back, his hand hovering over the gear shift, prepared to put the car in reverse. " _Just_ for the weekend."

"72 hours.. _tops_." Stiles confirmed, tapping his fingers against his knee.

With that confirmation, his dad pulled out of their driveway. Stiles leaned his head back against the seat, squeezing his eyes shut and making sure to control his breathing. Truth was, he was already beginning to regret his decision. Fear rising inside of him. But he refused to let his father see that. He had to stick through this. It was the only way to assure everyone's safety. He knew where his father was taking him. It was the only psychiatric hospital left in Beacon Hills after the one his mother had been in was demolished. It was the same hospital that his dad had been at earlier that month to get information on Barrow, who had been a past patient. It was almost strange how well his father knew how to get there. And with each road sign they passed, Stiles grew more unsure of his decision. Fighting the urge to ask his father to turn around and go back to their house. He knew his father wouldn't hesitate to, but he couldn't turn back now.

The car ride was silent and after about half an hour, he finally caught sight of the silhouette of the hospital up ahead. He placed his arms on the dash, resting his chin on top of them. The hospital was practically in the middle of nowhere, hidden from the rest of society. It gave off an ominous feeling, and once the car had slowed to a stop in front of the gates, Stiles almost felt like a kid about to enter a haunted house. His dad put the car in park, ripping his keys out of the ignition. Stiles took this as his cue to get out of the car. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling he had in his throat, and pushed open the door, stepping out and looking up at the building.

The dim street lamp over head cast a glow over him, and he caught sight of his shadow on the pavement in front of him. It reminded him of why he was there. His dad walked up behind him, and he slowly looked back at him, checking to make sure he was okay. His father gave him a look of approval, which looked forced but nonetheless helpful. Stiles nodded back to him, sighing, and then he took a step forward, prepared to walk through the front gate. Roaring of a motorcycle sounded behind him, stopping him in his tracks. He and his father peered behind them, lifting their hands to block the blinding lights from the bike. The engine shut off, and Stiles cursed to himself at the sight of Scott getting off of his bike.

Scott ran over to them, out of breath and helmet in hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because we wanted to avoid something like this." Sheriff Stilinski informed.

"It's only 72 hours." Stiles added on, seeing Scott's confused expression. "How did you even know about this anyways, I thought you went home?"

"After I dropped Kira off I wanted to make sure you both got home okay, when I saw you weren't there, I tracked your scent." Scott eyed the building behind them. "It led me _here_."

"Well, that makes sense." Stiles thought aloud.

"This is the same place Barrow came from,—the guy who had tumor inside him filled with _flies_." Scott felt the need to remind them. "You don't know everything yet." He looked towards Stiles' dad.

"I know enough. Nogitsunes, kitsunes, onis—or _whatever_ they're called," Sheriff Stilinski ran through the list of creatures he'd recently been informed about.

Stiles tilted his head in thought. "Nah, that's actually all surprisingly correct." He looked to his dad, impressed that he'd remembered without the help of the chessboard.

His father didn't hesitate to continue. "Scott, I saw an MRI that looked exactly like my wife's...and that _terrifies_ me." Scott's face relaxed at this, and Stiles looked down, the mention of his mom sending a painful rush through his chest. "And now today I find out that not only is my son possibly suffering from the same disease that killed her, but also that he's being possessed by some dark spirit?" he waved his hand exasperated. "...It wouldn't be too much, to be safe."

Scott understood where Stiles' dad was coming from. With everything his best friend and his dad had been through, it only made sense that all of this would be finally wearing down on them. But he still didn't understand how putting Stiles in a psychiatric hospital was going to help their situation. If anything, it might make matters worse, more difficult. "Why are you putting him in here?" Scott asked.

" _He's_ not," Stiles corrected, causing Scott to whip his head in his direction. "It was my decision."

Scott jerked his head back, clearly not understanding why Stiles would have chosen this. "Stiles, I _can't_ help you if you're in here."

Stiles raised his shoulders, Scott needed to understand that he wasn't thinking of himself. "And I _can't_ hurt you."

Scott looked taken aback at his words, and Stiles watched as his best friend's eyes lowered as he went into thought. "..Look, you heard Deaton, he's getting to work on some ideas, I called Allison, her dads calling people—We're going to find _something_." He was speaking so quickly, Stiles could hear the silent pleading for him to change his mind in Scott's voice. "And if we _can't_..—" Scott tried to think of another option, another reason for Stiles to feel secure in going back home, regardless if they had a plan B or not. But Stiles was already cutting him off, not allowing another word to escape Scott's lips.

"—If you _can't_..." Stiles began, forcing Scott to look up at him. Stiles glanced at his dad, before walking close to Scott, and placing his mouth near his ear so he could whisper. "If you can't then I need you to do something for me, okay?" He watched as Scott didn't respond right away. "Make sure I _never_ get out."

Scott opened his mouth to argue, shaking his head. However, once Stiles looked in his eyes, begging him not to say another word, he stopped. Stiles backed away from him, standing next to his father again. Scott stood there, wanting to say something, _anything_ , but he realized that Stiles was not changing his mind. At least not now. Stiles could see the defeat in Scott's eyes and all he wanted was for everything to just be a dream. He didn't want to be possessed. He didn't want to be standing there prepared to leave all he knew behind for a few nights in a crazy hospital. He didn't want to see the scared faces of his best friend and father. All this pain, all this anger, all this stress, was because of him. The longer he thought about it, the more content he grew with his decision. It would be hard to sit and be forced to do nothing but wait for some news to come on a plan, but he would have to endure it. It was better than sitting at home, staring at the clock and waiting for some vengeful Japanese dark spirit to take control over him again.

Once Scott said nothing more, Stiles gave his dad a nudge, letting him know he was ready. His dad blinked, pursing his lips and then beginning to walk in the direction of the gate. Stiles waited back for a moment, watching as Scott's head fell. Stiles sighed, walking up to him and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. Scott dropped his helmet, not thinking of the scratches created on the fiberglass as his arms looped around Stiles' back, returning the hug. The two held onto each other, not saying anything. This was their second hug since that day in the hospital, in which all their emotions, all their unspoken words, were said loud and clear without saying anything.

Scott tucked his head in Stiles shoulder, and Stiles closed his eyes, holding on for dear life. Neither of them knew this would be the last time they'd be together, before everything would change. "If you need anything," Scott mumbled. " _Anything_ , just yell. I'll hear you." He lifted his face out of Stiles' shoulder, resting his chin atop it instead. Stiles breathed a small laugh at this, pulling out of the hug.

"Will do." Stiles agreed, fumbling with his collar. "I'll see you soon." Even as he spoke the words, he felt doubtful; and when Scott nodded in response, he could see that Scott felt the same. Neither of them were sure of what was to come after Stiles walked through those gates. It left endless possibilities, mostly negative, that they couldn't bare to think of. All they could do was wait.

Stiles walked backwards as far as he could, keeping his eyes locked on Scott, before he had no other choice but to turn around, and follow his dad through the gates, and up the front steps that led to the doors of the hospital. He took one final look back at his best friend, and then turned, disappearing behind the steel doors as security led them inside.

Little did Stiles know, that the moment he stepped foot in Eichen House: Psychiatric Hospital, it was the beginning of the end. The next time Stiles Stilinski would be seen walking through those doors, it would no longer be Stiles Stilinski. Only a dark spirit using his body as a puppet, to finish the revenge it had started. Chaos was coming, like a raging fire. And as Stiles and his father said their goodbyes, and the Echo house welcomed him—the first flame was lit. The infestation had begun, and it was only a matter of time, before the spirit took full control once again.

* * *

 


	2. Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is tested as an Alpha when he realizes he's not the only one struggling to deal with everything. After a visit from an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful people! I am so sorry this took forever to update! Obviously with the finale of Teen Wolf, I got a bit thrown off, and quite frankly, uninspired to write anything including Allison Argent, because of how upset I was. I had to rethink a lot about this story, and where I wanted it to go. So, things have changed in terms of my plans, therefore I had to figure out some things before updating. But I am back! And ready to write for you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I love writing the vulnerable side of Allison just because I feel they focus so much on making her tough that they forget she's a human teenage girl. Thank you to those who reviewed last time! I hope to see some more this time around! Love you guys and I will see you again soon! x

**The War Inside**

Chapter 1b

"Afraid"

* * *

" _Being me can only mean,_

_being scared to breathe,_

_If you leave me then, I will be afraid of everything_

_That makes me anxious,_

_gives me patience, calms me down_."

Imagine Dragons _Afraid_

* * *

The streets were silent. All residents in Beacon hills paying respect to the night fall. Some were in their respectable beds, getting a good nights rest for the responsibilities that rose along with the sun. Others, were up on the phone, late night talks a common necessity for them to fall asleep. And others, like Scott McCall, were disturbing the peace, with the roaring engine of his bike, as he pulled into his driveway. It was 2:30am to be precise. All houses surrounding Scott's were hidden in the darkness. He had just gotten back from seeing his best friend walk into a psychiatric hospital. And as he ripped off his helmet, breathing heavily, he realized for the first time that he was crying. He'd been so distracted with his thoughts and focusing on getting home that when he dabbed his face with his fingers and felt they were wet, he at first thought it was blood. But it was not. Scott McCall had been crying. Crying for the fact that he was watching his best friend slip away, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Wiping at his face with the sleeve of his jacket, he puffed out his cheeks, releasing a shaky breath. When had things gotten so screwed up? Granted, things hadn't been good for a long time now. Ever since his bite, he couldn't think back to a point he was truly happy and content. However, even through all the horrible baggage that came with being a werewolf, he'd always had Stiles. The only thing that tied him to who he used to be. The only person who he could trust when he could trust no one. He was his Robin. His brother. And now, he wasn't even sure if all those things still held true. He was losing him, and the time everyone had to save him was running out. The thought of that caused Scott to lean forward on his bike, placing his face in his arms. He had promised Stiles he would do something. And he would. He had to. Because that's what they did. They always did something when the other had no other options. Always created a plan B, even when it was sought impossible. Scott took a moment to breathe, blocking out all other senses of the world around him. He knew he probably looked crazy. Leaned over on his bike in the middle of the night, but he didn't care. Not now. Now, he had to breathe. Because Stiles wasn't there to give him his inhaler. Stiles wasn't there to tell him everything would be okay, and that they'd figure it out. Stiles wasn't there to give his shoulders a squeeze and crack a sarcastic joke that would break his tension. Stiles wasn't there. And so Scott had to go at this one on his own. Scott, had to be his own anchor, again.

It took him about 10 more minutes of heavy breathing, to get remotely close to being back to a normal state. Normal as in, no longer heaving due to an incoming panic attack in the middle of his driveway. He slowly lifted his face out of his arms, standing straight on his bike. He closed his eyes, relaxing now that he felt the panic go back down, and then he swung one leg off of his bike, kicking the brake down so it wouldn't tip over due to his absence. It was now 3:10am. He didn't have school tomorrow, but it didn't take away the fact he had business to attend to. What, with his best friend being possessed and all. He rubbed at his eyes, tucking his helmet under his arm and shoving his hands in his pocket for his keys. It had been a long night. After taking so much pain from everyone, getting stabbed, and seeing his best friend walk into the Eichen house, all he wanted to do was go into his house, and collapse on his bed. Shoving his key into the front door lock, he began to twist it until he heard an expected click, before pushing it open. He had gotten only one foot in the door before he found himself whipping around, at the sound of the wood on his front porch creaking.

" _Allison_ ," he breathed in relief. "What the hell?"

"You didn't answer." she lifted her phone in the air to reveal it had about 13 recent calls to 'Scott'.

Scott found it odd looking at his contact and picture. She'd strangely kept his picture as the one of the day he'd taken her out for her birthday. She'd kissed his cheek and snapped a picture just as he'd begun to laugh. However, his name lacked the heart symbol next to it, that it once did. He must of stared at her phone for a bit too long, because now she was frowning, turning her phone to her face to look at what he was staring at.

"What?" she asked, and then her mouth dropped in realization. "Oh, that, sorry!" the words flew out of her mouth quickly, her thumb running across her screen. "I never got around to changing that," she spoke as if she'd been caught committing a crime. Scott raised his eyebrows, amused. He had to admit he had been a bit surprised at the fact she hadn't changed it, but he didn't understand why she was making such a big deal out of it.

"Allison.." he let go of the door, turning his body around completely, and walking towards her.

"I don't know why I didn't change it, I guess every thing just got so crazy afterwards. I didn't think to," her voice shook as she tried to form her words correctly, and Scott frowned at this. They both knew where they stood in each others lives now, and a contact photo wasn't going to change that.

" _Allison_!" This time he caught her attention. The volume of his voice, clearly catching her off guard. "Stop." He breathed, a very weak smile forming on his face as he closed the gap between them, clasping his hands over her trembling ones. Allison closed her mouth at this, her hands stopping in their place. Her thumb, hovering over his contact.

Her eyes bore into his shirt, as if she was willing herself not to look up at him. Hearing her heart thumping in her chest, Scott sighed, releasing her hands and taking her phone instead. "Here," the light from her phone screen lit his face with a blue hue. "Let me." It didn't take him long to delete the photo from his contact, and replace it with an old photo she'd kept of him. It wasn't nearly as much of a reminder of their romantic past. Just a simple photo of him using his pencil as a mustache, whilst his eyes were crossed. Stiles was photo bombing in the background, his tongue sticking out wildly. He smiled to himself, a brief memory of when times were good between he and his best friend. "There." He handed her phone back to her. "I think that one suits better anyways, don't you?"

Allison looked at the photo for a few minutes, and soon a sad smile took the place of her panicked expression. "Yeah," she nodded, her short hair not failing to bounce on her shoulders as she did. "I always did love that photo of you two."

Scott folded his lips in, a muffled laugh escaping him. "Stiles always knew how to make the photo one for the albums." He scratched the back of his neck, before sliding his hand back into his pocket. "So," He started, suddenly remembering there was a reason Allison had originally come to his house at 3:10am. "..What's up? Why so many calls?"

Allison grew serious then, realizing she'd strayed away from what she'd originally planned. "Right, that." she ran her fingers through her hair. "I, think we have a problem." She said finally and Scott's couldn't help but grimace at this. "What?"

"Sorry, I just really don't know how many more problems I can handle." he admitted, rolling his neck. He had enough on his plate with Issac lying on his death bed and Stiles being possessed. He didn't want to know what would come next.

"Should I wait until tomorrow, after you've gotten some rest? You look tired.." She chewed on her lower lip, the moonlight casting a glow over her.

Scott, as if on cue, yawned. "Yeah, well, you look tired too, and yet you're here." He lifted his chin towards her. "When's the last time you slept some place other than a hospital bench?" He asked, finally noticing that she had dark circles beneath her eyes and a faint scent that told him it wasn't her first day wearing the clothes she was in.

Allison, now self-conscious, pulled at the ends of her sleeves. "I don't know, a few days.." She cast her attention to the ground. "It's just really hard to leave him, you know? I mean, all he has is—"

"Us." Scott finished for her, causing her to lift her eyes to him. "All he has is us. I know." He nodded faintly, and then sucked in a sharp breath. "Look, how about we go inside for a bit? I'll make some coffee, and you can tell me all about this new found problem, and then maybe we can both try and get some sleep? At least an hour or two?"

Allison looked as though she was going to protest, her head already prepared to shake in rejection, but Scott quickly stopped her. "Don't worry, I didn't mean like that. I'll sleep in my moms bed. You can take mine. She works the night shift any ways. She won't be home until later on today."

Allison pondered this, glancing around the quiet neighborhood in contemplation. After what seemed like over a few minutes, she turned back to him. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

"Yeah?" Scott asked, making sure that she was actually comfortable by listening in on her heart beat while she answered.

"Yes." Allison gave a firm nod, her heart beat not skipping a beat. Scott jerked his head back, a smile playing on his lips.

"Alright then." When he turned to go back in the house, he held the door open for her to walk inside.

Allison seemed cautious, folding her hands together as she walked past him, under his arm, and into the house. Scott closed the door behind them, trying to ignore the awkward silence between them. The two of them used to be able to sit silence for hours, just doing homework, or holding each other. Now, it was uncomfortable. Neither of them knowing how to end the silence.

Scott dragged his feet across the floor as he made his way across his living room. It had been a long time since he'd felt so exhausted. With everything going on, he couldn't say he was surprised. "Uhm, If you don't mind, I'm just gonna change.." He was already shrugging off his jacket, revealing his blood soaked shirt. He had forgotten Allison had yet to see his wound, seeing as her horrified gasp caught him off guard. He whipped his head around the room, searching for what had startled her. "What, what is it!?" He asked, face twisted with worry. Allison shook her head, reaching to him.

"Scott, you're hurt!" She cried out, lifting his shirt unexpectedly. Scott's mouth opened to say something, but he soon realized he didn't have to as Allison quickly frowned, obviously confused. "Oh, right.." She retreated, her hand releasing his shirt. "Sorry, I forgot, you heal." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm such an idiot."

Scott found it hard to believe himself. Allison was not one to forget little detail. Especially when it came to werewolves. Being able to heal was practically werewolf 101. It was hard to forget. At the same time, Allison had been acting off since she arrived on his front porch. So it wasn't too surprising when she'd made a move that was so out of character. Besides, his shirt was soaked in blood, He could see where her instinct would be to check for a wound, regardless if he could heal.

"It's okay," the words seemed to roll off his tongue naturally. "..Just gave me more reason to want to hurry up and change."

"That's probably a good idea." she nodded, not looking in his eyes.

Scott didn't say anything for a moment, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he gave a short nod. "I'll be right back."

"Okay." Allison sat on his couch, clearing her throat and forcing a grin.

Scott didn't allow another moment to pass. He walked calmly out of the room, however the second his foot stepped into the hallway leading to the stairs he broke into a run. He was practically ripping off his clothes, stumbling into his room.

"Really, Scott?" He cursed himself as he threw his bloody clothes into the trash near his computer desk, leaving him only in boxers. "You just had to invite her in, didn't you?" clenching his teeth, he walked over to his closet. "You're ridiculous. If Stiles was here he would slap you upside the head for doing something so stupid." he sighed.

Somewhere in the midst of having a conversation with himself, he'd managed to change into a pair of black sweats and an old t-shirt that used to belong to his dad. If he had been more focused, he would have changed into a different shirt, tossing his fathers into the back of the closet as it has always been. Along with the rest of his dad's stuff that Scott had told his mom he'd put out with trash that day she'd put it all in a bag, when he really didn't. There was no time to focus on wardrobe now though. Now, he had to go back downstairs and listen to whatever problem Allison needed to inform him of at such a late hour.

Something was off. Scott could feel it. Allison was not one to panic. She was a strong girl. Something he'd always appreciated about her. As bad as it sounded, he knew he never had to worry about her. Which, personally to him, was a relief. It was enough worrying about all the other things that came along with being an Alpha. He would have hated to add a girlfriend — now, ex — to the list. Still, that didn't prevent him from the occasional anxiety that would form inside of him when moments like these approached him. Allison may have been one of the toughest out of all of them, but that didn't mean she wasn't still human. She had her vulnerable moments. Moments where her tough exterior was cracked enough to allow you a peek inside to her true inner thoughts and feelings. Scott could sense he was about to witness one of those moments. He also had a strong feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. But, what else was new?

He made his way down the steps, rounding the corner into the living room once he'd gotten all the way down. Allison's head shot up upon his arrival, and he couldn't ignore the flash of pain that spread across her face. The way her lips curled slightly, the worry lines in her forehead creasing as she knit her eyebrows together. She had either been thinking of something prior to his entrance, or he looked worse than he'd thought.

Subconsciously, he crossed his arms, leaning against the frame of the arch leading into the living room. He nodded his chin to her, eyes squinted with slight concern. "Are you okay?"

Allison was quick to relax her face, nodding quickly. "Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." she looked down, placing her hands onto the soft cushion of the couch beneath her.

Scott paused, closing his eyes as he focused for a moment on her heart beat.

The slight skip of her pulse, crashed into his ear drum, and his eyes flashed open. She had yet to even notice what he'd done, her eyes still locked on her bouncing knees. "You're lying.." Scott's eyes did not leave her as he spoke.

Her knees suddenly stopped bouncing, her head twisting in his direction so quickly he was surprised she didn't get whiplash. "What?"

"You're lying. You're not 'perfectly fine', I can hear your heart beat.." He eyes her carefully, looking at her up and down and secretly sniffing the air to catch sense of what she was feeling. Panic was definitely there. Along with confusion, sadness, anger...fear.

Allison folded her lips inward, tears filling her eyes.

Scott was quick to react, pushing himself off of the arch frame and walking over to kneel before her. "Allison, what is it?" he placed a comforting hand on her wrist.

She didn't move her hand, but she did fidget under his touch, letting out a struggled breath. "I probably look like a complete idiot, here I am crying like a little child. It's pathetic, it's—"

"You're not pathetic," Scott spoke angrily, feeling defensive towards Allison, even when she wasn't willing to be defensive towards herself. "Allison you're one of the strongest people I know, but you have to tell me what's going on..."

Allison's cries has quieted then, only becoming muffled sounds as she tried to swallow back down her tears. "...I'm sorry." she ran her fingers through her hair, eventually letting her hand slide over her face lazily. Her makeup was smeared, but Scott still sought her to be beautiful.

"Don't apologize for having emotions." Scott shook his head, squeezing her knee comfortingly.

"I don't know where that came from, really. I'm usually better at keeping it inside." She began to ramble again, wiping underneath her eyes desperately. Hoping to wipe away the moment of vulnerability she'd shown Scott, as well.

Scott saw this as his cue to stand, sitting on the arm rest of the love seat across from her. "Again, you don't need to explain. Trust me, I get it." He raised his hand briefly, and then let it rest back on his thigh.

He watched as she tried to re-compose herself. Searching for that strong front she was so good at placing on. Tonight, she was struggling. It was as if she was wearing a cloak that was too big, and therefore it kept sliding off at unexpected times. she looked scared of herself. Afraid to feel whatever it was she was trying her best to avoid feeling. And in that moment all he wanted to do was walk over and hug her.

"... I think tea sounds like a better idea, how about you?" he asked, stopping her in her attempts to get back to normal.

"Oh, uhm," she sniffled quietly. "Sure." Her hands were frozen in their place as she was midway through clearing her face of the smeared makeup.

"Alright, I'll just go make it." He knew she probably wanted the time alone. She probably needed the time alone for whatever reason. He'd decided from the moment she'd begun to cry that he wouldn't press it. However, he still felt the itching beneath his skin of wanting to know what she had yet to tell him. Clearly whatever she'd come to tell him was affecting her. Which meant it was personal. Scott didn't handle personal things.

He wasn't Derek Hale, but he was an Alpha. With that newfound role, came the protective instinct. The mere thought that someone from his pack was in danger was enough to make his claws begin to rip through his nail beds. He was aware that Stiles was in danger already. But, something told him Allison wasn't just upset over Stiles. It had to be something else entirely. Maybe a bunch of things all wrapped up in one, he just didn't know.

He pulled out two mugs from the cabinets, and set them on the counter as the water began to boil on the stove behind him. Then, resting his palms on the island he allowed himself to slip into a deep thought. Something that had become an everyday thing. He had never been good at solving things on his own. That had always been Stiles' job. Now he was lost. Simply lost. With Allison, of all people. He never thought there'd be a day when he struggled to figure out, what was going on with—

"I think the water is done." Scott jumped out of his thoughts, his ears catching the screeching sound of the kettle on the stove.

"Awe, Fu—" he didn't even allow himself to finish before he was reaching over, towel wrapped around his hand, to grab the kettle and turn the stove off.

The screeching slowly fell quiet, and he pressed his free knuckle against his left ear drum.

"Remind me, to never do that again. A wolf's ears are sensitive enough as it is." he felt his jaw click as he opened his mouth to wince.

Allison hid her quiet laugh behind her palm as she walked into the kitchen. Reaching the island, she slid onto one of the bar stools and rested her elbows on the smooth granite top. The smeared make up was no more, and she looked almost free of all makeup aside from the light stain from her lipstick that rested faintly on her lips. Scott tried hard not to focus on that detail of her.

"I'm hoping you're feeling better?" He carefully placed two tea bags in each of their mugs, before pouring the hot water in one after the other.

Allison watched as his tongue stuck out a bit in his concentration and she couldn't help but smile. "We could say that, yes." she followed the steam that drifted from the cups. "I couldn't tell you where that came from if we're being honest. I'm a bit embarrassed." she rested her chin on her hand.

"Don't be. It's called mental break downs. And if we're being honest, I'm surprised all of us haven't had them sooner." He set the kettle down and slid her cup towards her across the counter. "With everything going on, constantly—careful it's hot!" he was quick to stop her as she began to lift the steaming cup to her lips.

Allison smirked, before blowing onto the contents. Scott relaxed, cheeks growing red at his stupidity.

"Right." he nodded to himself. "You see? I've become a paranoid, overprotective over a hot cup of tea, lunatic."

Allison felt the numbness grow in her lips as she placed her mouth to the cup and took a sip. "Mm, you're not so much of a lunatic. That is really hot."

Scott laughed then. It wasn't loud, or full. It was tired and weak, but it seemed to be enough for Allison to release whatever tension was built in her shoulders. The mug made a light clink as it met with the counter top below, and Allison sucked in a nervous breath. Scott could feel she was about to speak, so he rubbed one of his eyes, and focused.

"I heard my dad, talking on the phone." Allison traced her finger around the edge of the mug.

"Who was he talking to?" Scott's eyebrows knit together.

"I'm not sure. Judging from what I could hear from the other end, it was a woman, and he was far from agreeing with whatever she had to say." her hair fell off of her shoulder and she rubbed at her now bare neck. "He was talking about me."

"You?" Scott hadn't expected that. "What about you? And what about you would he not be in agreement with?"

Allison sucked in as much air as she could through her parted lips, before shaking her head. "I'm not sure of that either. He just kept saying 'No. she's different. It won't be like last time'.." Allison met Scott's eyes. "I heard her laughing. As if my father was stupid for even thinking that things would be different this time." she spoke through her teeth.

"Did you ask your dad about it?" Scott found himself leaning further across the table. As if the closer he got to her, the more information he could soak in. "I mean, did he say anything?"

"Nope." Allison picked up her cup once more, the glass feeling much cooler. "He lied straight to my face about it. It's like we were right back to square one." Allison took another sip, then a gulp.

Scott realized he hadn't even touched his tea, and was quick to follow her lead. His mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Why would he lie to you?"

"Whatever the woman had said, must not have been good. Considering the fact it has something to do with his past, that's not too surprising." she began to play with the tea bag string between her long fingers. "I don't know, something isn't right."

Scott lowered the cup from his lips slowly. "Allison, I," He thought about his words carefully. "I get, your concern. I mean, you've had enough family secrets to last a lifetime but why does this have you so worked up? I mean, anger, I completely understand. But you had me thinking you were going into a full on panic attack back there."

He realized how he must of sounded. It was almost as if he didn't value her problems as legit reasons to have a mental breakdown on his couch. But apart of him couldn't help but ask. Allison had dealt with family secrets before. And never has she let those interfere or cause her to stray away from pack problems. Stiles was possessed and yet she was taking time away from figuring out a plan to save him, to discuss family problems?

Allison looked wounded by his words, and although he knew he had been honest whilst asking, he regretted his phrasing. He was never good with words. Especially when it came to Allison.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong." Scott sighed, standing up straight.

"No. You're right. I was just being paranoid. It's probably something stupid." She waved a hand, nonchalantly. "So what, my dad lied to me for the first time since my mom died." Tears were beginning to cloud her vision. "So what, my father promised he would never lie to me again, and yet broke that promise last night. So what, he's the only family I have left and I can't even trust him." With each phrase she grew more hysterical. "So what, one of my best friends is lying in a hospital bed with horrific burns, while another is possessed and sitting in a mental institution. So what, I'm failing all my classes and trying to help save some of the only people I love. So what, my mother died two months after my aunt, and my grandfather turned out to be a psychotic bastard who tried to kill all of my friends. So, fucking what!" she let out a sob and Scott felt the guilt wash over him.

Allison hadn't just been crying over her dad lying to her. That had just been the reason to set her off. The fly that broke the camels back. She was finally letting go of everything that she'd kept inside over the past 3 years. She was cracking. And earlier, it had been hard seeing her cry on his couch. But it was even harder when he finally understood why. Allison Argent was no longer as strong as she had fought so hard to be. Her facade was running away with each tear that rolled down her flushed cheeks. Scott was witnessing Allison lose her mind. And this time, he wasn't going to hold back. He wasn't going to leave her be.

So, he rushed around the counter, and pulled her into his arms. The warmth of her tears instantly seeping through the fabric of his shirt. She let him. She let him hold her. She let him take on the weight of her world. She let him catch her. She let him protect her from the harsh events around them. And for the few minutes that it lasted, both of them had felt content. Because this wasn't romantic. This was simply two people, who loved and cared for each other, being there. Which was all what having their makeshift pack was about.

Allison dug her face into his shoulder, and Scott squeezed his arms more tightly around him, resting his chin atop her head. "Allison, we will figure all of this out." He rubbed her back with the palm of his hand soothingly. "We always have a plan B," he quoted Stiles. "And maybe we can't fix the past, but we can shape the future." He looked back and forth around the room. "I'm not going to let anything bad happen, not to anyone."

Allison was breathing heavily now, the crying had blocked all air ways for the time it had occurred.

"We'll save Stiles, and we'll figure out what's going on with your dad, and we'll just.. We'll get through this." He pulled back slightly, forcing her to look up at him. "I promise." his eyes bore into her own. He wanted her to know, he wasn't lying. "Okay?"

Allison's eyes looked all over his face, her eyes glossy with tears. She knew she could trust him. If there was anyone that she could trust, it was Scott. After all they'd been through. "Okay."

Scott smiled and then pressed his lips to her forehead. It had been something they had grown accustomed to over the years. It was the first time he'd felt comfortable doing it since they'd broken up. And he couldn't think of a better time.

Allison lips curled into a smile at the old gesture, and when the warmth of his lips left her skin, she was happy to know that they had grown that confidence back in their friendship. That they could do comforting things, without them being anything other than platonic.

Scott's thumb brushed against her cheeks, wiping whatever was left of her tears and then smirked. "If Lydia was here she'd be appalled at the amount of makeup you've wasted tonight."

"Oh god, let's not mention that to her." she gasped. "she has enough problems to deal with."

Scott threw his head back, releasing her fully, and then grabbing a napkin. "Yeah, so do you. You gotta love the after math of crying." He tapped his nose, and then threw the napkin at her.

"Jesus." Allison's eyes grew wide with embarrassment before she began to blow into the napkin and clean her nose. Scott took the time to finish what was left in his mug. "Thanks."

"Mm," Scott swished the tea in his mouth around and then swallowed. "Don't worry about it. I've seen worse."

"You have not." Allison squinted.

"I live with Issac. Trust me." Scott placed the cup in the sink. "Besides, if that's not enough, you drool in your sleep. That's a pretty sight."

Allison glared at him. "Oh, shut up."

"No, really. It's like a puddle." Scott made a disgusted face, and it wasn't long before a dish towel was thrown in his direction. He caught it effortlessly, and looked towards a prideful Allison.

"Watch it McCall. Next, it'll be the kettle." Allison stood off her stool, walking over and placing her own cup in the sink.

"Fair enough." Scott tossed the dish towel back onto the counter, and then rested his back against the sink. Allison settled next to him.

The dim lighting in the kitchen gave a cozy feel, and they both found comfort in the silence for the first time that night.

"Thank you." Allison looked up at him. "For always being willing to listen. Even when I'm just being over dramatic, and I'm too focused on my pride to ask for a hand."

"Don't worry about it." Scott looked to her.

"You've really got this Alpha thing down." she nudged him.

"I wouldn't say that." Scott cleared his throat. "If I did, Stiles wouldn't be in a mental hospital right now, and Issac would be awake."

Allison pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey," she turned to stand in front of him. "This could not have been stopped. Okay? None of us knew about Stiles. Not even Stiles! And Issac would never blame you for what happened."

"Yeah but I should have saw something. I mean Stiles is my best friend. And he kept trying to tell me there was something wrong, but I didn't even listen." Scott could find a list of reasons to blame himself. "And I should have warned Issac about the power lines,"

"Scott!" Allison gripped his shoulders. "This is not your fault. You're doing the best you can."

Scott stopped speaking, looking at her. Then, he shook his head slightly. "What if that's not enough?"

Allison didn't have a quick response to that. But she didn't need one, for their moment was broken by the sound of a doorbell.

Both their heads turned quickly in the direction. Scott eyed the clock. 5:00am. When did that happen? He could hear birds begin to chirp outside and he saw the growing hue of light blue begin to seep through the kitchen blinds. Morning was creeping upon them.

"I'll get that." Scott walked out of Allison's arms, heading towards the front door.

Allison could hear from where she stood in the kitchen, Scott's moms voice ring through the house.

"I forgot my house keys. I'm sorry I woke you." Melissa McCall spoke hastily, "Where did you get that shirt?" Allison trailed into the living room, just as Scott began to stutter out an excuse.

"Hi, Mrs. McCall." Allison called out.

Melissa took her attention off Scott, and her frown quickly turned to a smile. "Allison! Hello, I would of thought you would be a home right now. When did you get here?"

"We, actually haven't slept yet.." Scott informed. "She's been here since 2."

Melissa didn't hide her surprise. "Oh my god, does your father know you're here?"

"Yes. I told him." Allison clasped her hands behind her back.

"Well, you two need rest. Scott, I told you that you could stay home, I expect you to take care of yourself." Melissa turned to him.

"I am, mom." Scott rolled his eyes.

Melissa looked disappointed. "Good. Well, I have to head back to work."

"I thought you had the night shift?" Scott looked confused.

"It looks as though that's being prolonged. After the work on the hospital the other night, we're gonna need all the hands we can get. Call me if anything comes up. The sheriff should be here around 12." she grabbed her keys out of the bowl on the coffee table.

"Will do." Scott cracked his knuckles.

"Allison, it's always nice seeing you." Melissa rushed over, giving the girl a brief hug.

Allison didn't have much time to respond, so instead she gave a muffled laugh.

"I love you." Melissa turned, brushing her lips across her sons cheek.

"Love you too." he called over his shoulder as she hurried by.

"Sleep! Remember, separate bedrooms!" And then she was gone.

Scott found himself yawning as if on cue.

"I guess she has a point." Allison licked her lips lazily.

"Agreed." Scott spoke through his yawn, and then slouched as he relaxed.

"Sleep?" Allison asked.

"Sleep." Scott nodded.

**6 hours later**

Scott was sprawled across the bed, mouth hung open and snores escaping through his nostrils.

It was the deepest sleep he'd gotten in over a month and if he were awake he would be thankful his mom had told him to get some rest when she had. Because, man was this nice.

However, nothing good ever stays. Especially not with Scott McCall.

He was rudely awakened by someone roughly shaking him.

He groaned, trying to hide underneath Issac's pillow. But that's when he heard Allison's voice, seeming further away due to the pillow covering his ears.

He poked his head out from the pillow, squinting up at her with tired eyes. "What, What is it?"

"The sheriff if here." There was worry strewn across Allison's features, and Scott propped himself up on his elbow.

Allison stepped to the side to reveal a distraught sheriff shuffling into the room.

"Stiles, he's.." his voice cracked as the words escaped his mouth.

Scott couldn't handle the anticipation. "He's what!?" he pulled at the bed sheets beneath him.

The sheriff looked up. "He's gone."

* * *

 


	3. Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia begins to hallucinate upon Stiles' disappearance.

**The War Inside**

Chapter 2a

"Insanity"

* * *

_"I hate this car that I am driving,_

_there's no hiding for me_

_I'm forced to deal, with what I feel_

_there is no distraction to mask what is real_

_I could pull the steering wheel."_

_Car Radio_ by Twenty-One Pilots

* * *

The house is empty when she arrives. Nothing but a note explaining her mothers absence, to greet her. It's 7:00 in the morning, and the thought of going to school doesn't even come to her mind. It had been a long night. Seeing Scott and Kira beat up and battered, by the hands of Stiles who had looked so afraid of his own reflection when he'd awoken on that cold lab table. His screams echoed in her ears. Even after she'd left he and his father in that veterinary building, and went on a drive filled with blaring music, she could not escape them. Now, after hours of driving around restlessly by herself, the screams had died down. She was home. Or whatever she could call the house she lived in. Either way, she was happy to be in a place where she could finally kick off her heels, and collapse into a deep slumber. Or at least try.

Closing the front door behind her, she toed off her heels, one by one. Picking them up delicately, and placing them on the makeshift shoe rack near the front door. She would organize them properly later on. Not now. Not when she had yet to sleep, and would most likely be interrupted by her mother in a few hours, to be scolded about skipping school. No, sleep was most definitely a main priority.

She made her way through her house, dragging her feet behind her lazily. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she pulled herself up the stairs, and by the time she'd made her way into her room, her steps practically turned into sleep walking. It was zombie like, and the least bit lady like. But she had yet to find the strength to care. She stopped in the center of her room. Realizing, she couldn't possibly sleep in her clothes. She would never be  _that_ tired. Especially if it would only add on to the list of things her mother was planning to ground her for when she came home.

So, even with no energy seeming to be left in her small frame, she pulled her clothes off. Trading designer for an oversized T-shirt and a pair of white cotton shorts. The T-shirt had been one of the few she'd still had of Jackson's. He had been out of her life for so long now, the shirt had hardly phased her when she'd pulled it over her head. It no longer held his scent, for the fact it had been washed. She was greatful for that. What, with everything that had been going on in her life: becoming a banshee, almost losing her friends, almost dying. She had many other things to focus on than old memories of Jackson Whittemore. The boy who'd ran away with her heart to London.

She pulled her hair out of its bun, allowing it to fall in soft tendrils down her back, and ran her fingers through it's tangles, being soothed by the way her nails gently rubbed against her scalp. Like a massage. The silence engulfed her, and although she was thankful for the bit of peace she'd gained, the silence only left her with one other sound to listen to; Her thoughts. What a horrible sound.

Voices and images from the past few days filled her mind, and it was enough to make her temple throb. She pressed her fingers against the side of her head, massaging it lightly. She just wanted everything to be back to normal. When she didn't know about werewolves. When she didn't find herself waking up in the middle of the night to wail at the sense of a dead body lying somewhere. When she still had time to get her nails done and bicker with her hot-shot lacrosse captain of a  _ex_ -boyfriend. When she didn't have to feel as though said  _ex_ -boyfriend was now a complete stranger. When she was still Lydia Martin. Popular girl, with amazing grades, and a envious wardrobe. Sure, life hadn't been _perfect_  before, but it had been pretty close.

Currently, Lydia's life just made her feel as if she were in some cliche supernatural television show. Like the ones she used to find herself watching whenever Jackson and she would be in a fight, and she ended up alone with nothing better to do. When had Lydia Martin's life become so complicated? Lydia didn't  _do_  complicated. She never had, and she had thought she never would have to. However, somehow along the way, (whether it be befriending the future girlfriend of an teenage werewolf, or walking into the middle of the lacrosse field by herself on the night of the winter formal) she'd went wrong. Now, " _complicated_ " and " _Lydia Martin_ " didn't seem right unless being used in the same sentence.

Sighing at her thoughts, Lydia let the rest of her body fall backwards onto her bed, her hair cascading around her, and her hands folding themselves atop her abdomen. Her hazel eyes glowered up at the blank ceiling, and she squinted her eyes hoping for something up there to silence her thoughts, long enough for her to catch up on some sleep. But sleep had become a foreign concept to her, and even though she was beyond restless, she found herself not being able to fall into a slumber. Pressing her lips together, she let out a muffled groan of frustration. She was exhausted, lost, and - _hungry._ Now that she was home, her body had sent her the message. It wasn't until then, that she realized she hadn't eaten in 2 days. She would have to handle that at some point. But, later. After she satisfied what she really needed. A _distraction_. A distraction from her exhaustion. A distraction from her thoughts. A distraction from her hunger. A distraction...In the form of a 6 ft. 1 teenage werewolf, with a body to kill for, and an attraction to Lydia.

The teenage girl sat up, pushing herself off of her bed, and grabbing her phone from where she'd tossed it on her dresser.

She scrolled through her contacts, before her eyes landed on the desired number.

_Aiden._

Pressing the call button gently, she rose the phone to her ear, and released a yawn as it rang. It only took about 3 rings, before the boy answered.

"Hello?" His voice breathed through the phone.

"Hey, Aiden!" Her eyes watered from the yawn, and she turned away from her dresser.

"Lydia?" She could hear the surprise in his voice.

" _Sad_. Have you deleted my number already?" A tired laugh escaped her plump lips.

"Sorry, I just..." A pause. A long pause at that. Did he hang up? "I wasn't expecting to hear from you anytime soon? After, well.. _yano_."

She did know. She had just simply forgotten. She would blame it on the lack of sleep, but she knew the real answer was because she didn't want to remember that night. The night Stiles had gone missing. Lydia had spent the entire night worrying about Stiles, and after a visit to the hospital to see the resting boy, Aiden accused her of having feelings for him, and she, well.. she snapped. Aiden, being Aiden, snapped right back at her. It had been stupid really. She had gotten so defensive over a simple question..

_Lydia hurried through the hospital doors, Aiden on her heels._

_"Lydia! Would you just.." he stopped to pick up her car keys, which she'd absentmindedly dropped when rushing to get out of her car. "..Hang on, a second!?"_

_Lydia didn't answer him, she simply rounded the corner, heels clicking on the hospital floors, and skidding to a stop as she reached the front desk. Aiden jogged to catch up, soon slowing to a stop beside her with a huff._

_"I'm here to see Stiles Stilinski." She'd informed, breathlessly._

_"Stilinski.." The nurse began to type in his name to the database._

_"I didn't know you could run that fast." Aiden attempted to lighten the mood, smiling at her. She didn't even glance in his direction. He frowned._

_"Stiles Stilinski, room 224." The nurse looked up. "Are you family?"_

_"Yes."_

_"No."_

_Lydia snapped her head in Aiden's direction, eyes wide._

_"Uh," Aiden stuttered, taken back by her devilish look. "I mean..Yes, and no. She's family. I..I am not." His eyes flicked from Lydia to the nurse, nervously._

_"Right. Well, I'm sorry sir, but only family is allowed after hours." The nurse eyed the two suspiciously._

_"That's fine." Aiden nodded._

_Lydia finally tore her glare from Aiden's face, turning back to the nurse. "Room 224, you said?"_

_"Room 224." The nurse confirmed._

_And Lydia had been on her way. She'd skipped the elevator, taking the stairs instead. It was just one floor up. She dodged rushing doctors, and wheeling patients, until she collided into a pacing Scott._

_"Where is he? Is he okay?" She spoke too quickly, and Scott, still surprised from the collision, reached his arms out quickly to stop her._

_"Lydia, hey, he's right in there. He's fine, just resting." He rubbed his hands up and down her arm._

_Lydia closed her eyes in relief. "He's fine?"_

_Scott looked over her. "Yes, he's fine. Are you?"_

_Lydia's eyes locked on his, and she hesitated before quickly nodding. "Mhm."_

_Scott cocked an eyebrow. "You're sure about that?"_

_"No, I'm fine. I was just worried about him. But he's fine, so I'm fine, we're all fine." She dared to look over Scott's shoulder, catching sight of a sleeping Stiles through the crack in the door. Tears pressed at the back of her eyes._

_Scott's shoulders slumped, as his face softened. "Lydia..."_

_"I should probably head home. It's late, and I still have to drive Aiden home. Besides, I haven't really done much help tonight, So..." she squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke._

_"Lyd-" Scott attempted once more._

_"I'll see you later, okay?" She forced a weak smile, and turned calling a quick "Text me!" Over her shoulder._

_She could feel Scott's gaze on her back as she walked away, and when she finally was around the corner, she released a breath she'd been holding, as her tears fell._ _She looked pathetic. Walking around the halls, blubbering like a child. And when she found herself back in front of Aiden, who looked genuinely concerned, It only angered her. He was not allowed to see her cry. Nobody was allowed to see her cry. The only person who'd ever seen her cry was..._

_"Lydia?" He jumped up from the waiting room chair, quickly following after her._

_Lydia did not stop, she only wiped at her tears with her sleeve and reached out for her keys with her free hand. "Keys?"_

_"Here," he placed them gently in her hands. "What's wrong? Is Stiles okay?"_

_"He's fine." The breeze of the night air brushed against her skin as they made it out of the hospital._

_"Well then why are you crying?" Aiden questioned._

_"I'm not crying!" Lydia retorted, stomping across the parking lot towards her car._

_"You're definitely crying." Aiden pointed out._

_"So what if I am!? What's it to you!?" She clicked the unlock button as her car came into view._

_"What's it to me? Lydia, I obviously care, what's wrong?" Aiden asked again._

_Lydia whipped around. "Please, you don't care about anyone Aiden."_

_"Says who?" Aiden threw his arms up._

_"Me! Derek! Scott! Everyone! I don't even know why you're pretending as if you wanted to help Stiles tonight. All you did was try and flirt with me when we were alone, and laugh at him for keeping my picture in his room!" Her face was growing hot with anger._

_"Well I'm sorry if I'm adjusting a little differently to the whole little pack family you guys got going on here, If you don't remember, a month ago we were enemies!" Aiden sneered. "And also, don't pretend like you didn't find that a little weird. If a guy has a picture you drew, framed in his room, it means something!"_

_"Okay!? Who cares!?" Lydia placed her hands on her hips._

_"I care! I don't particularly enjoy this kids infatuation with you!" Aiden sounded disgusted._

_"You don't 'particularly enjoy' his infatuation with me!? What are you, my father!?" She mocked him._

_"Well do you!?" Aiden stepped closer to her, challenging her.  
_

_"Do I what!?" She lifted in her chin, eyes glossy._

_"Do you have a problem with his infatuation with you!?" Aiden filled in the blanks, through clenched teeth._

_"No! Why should I?" She rolled her eyes._

_"...Of course you don't." Aiden shook his head slightly._

_"What's that supposed to mean!?" Lydia tightened her jaw._

_"It means the reason you don't have a problem with him being infatuated with you, is because you're infatuated with him!" Aiden spit out._

_Lydia's mouth propped open, and for am moment she was speechless. "I have no idea what you're talking about!" She whipped back on her heel, yanking her car door open.  
_

_"Don't pull that crap with me," he stepped in front of her, the dark closing once more. "Some part of you feels something for him that you can't explain, just say it."_

_Lydia looked up at him, not sure of what to say. "Even if I did, it would be none of your business. I'm not yours Aiden. You don't get to act as though I am."_

_"So you're his then?" Aiden hissed._

_"I am nobody's!" Lydia shouted. "For christ's sake, I just lost the first boy I've ever loved so he could go play werewolf in London! I've seen more dead bodies this year then I ever could have imagined! One of my friends is possessed by some Japanese dark spirit! And if that's not enough to drive me crazy, I just found out I'm a banshee! I have no time to figure out my own life, let alone enough time to try and complicate things by adding someone else in it. So, no, Aiden. I'm not his. I'm not yours. I'm nobody's! Now get your hand off of my door, or so help me god, I will kick you so hard in the balls you won't even remember what it's like to have a member down there."_

_Aiden's eyes grew wide at this. Now it was his turn to be speechless. With a quiet gulp, he took two steps backwards, and watched as she yanked the car door back open, and slid inside._

_He leaned down, talking to her through the window. "Just.." He began. "Tell me," he breathed. "Are you in love with him?"_

_Lydia stared ahead, gripping her wheel._

_"Lydia." he spoke softly. "I need to know."_

_She blinked, a tear falling from her eye, and then she started the engine, looking over her shoulder as she reversed out of the spot, and sped out of the parking lot._

"Right... _That._ " Lydia rubbed her lips together. "I'm sorry, that I freaked out. It was just an emotional night. I had been doubting myself and my powers, and I was just overwhelmed." She tried explaining herself.

Aiden's line was quiet, and she could practically feel his hesitance through the phone. "It's fine. I get it." He finally spoke.

"You do?" Lydia began to fumble with the hem of her shirt.

"Yeah. I mean, he's your  _friend_...You were worried. Worrying about someone can make another act, not themselves. I get it." Aiden breathed, and Lydia didn't miss his attempt at emphasizing the word 'friend' nonchalantly.

"Right. Exactly." Lydia nodded to herself.  _Friend_. That's all Stiles was. That's all he ever would be.

"So, Is that it? Is that all you were calling me for? To apologize?" Aiden asked, breaking Lydia from her growing thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh! No, actually, If we're being honest, I wasn't calling with the intentions to apologize," Lydia admitted, as though that weren't clear. "I was calling to see if you would like to come over."

"Come over?" Aiden's voice lifted slightly.

"Yes, come over. My mom's not home, and everyone else is still a bit..." Her voice trailed off, not knowing how to explain the fact she didn't want to be around her friends because they just reminded her of Stiles, without it sounding like she cared for him more than a friend. "I just, want you to come over."

"Okay. When? Now?" There was a door being shut in the background, and Lydia could hear his breaths begin to pick up speed as he started to walk again.

"That works for me, does it work for you?" Lydia walked over to her vanity, looking over herself as the call was coming to an end.

"Sounds good. I'll be over in about, I want to say, 20 minutes?" He pondered, and Lydia pursed her lips at this.

"Alright! Bye!" Lydia didn't wait for his response, she simply ended the call.

Now that she knew Aiden was coming over, her current attire would not do. Quickly, she tore off the oversized T-shirt, and replaced it with a over the shoulder, coral mid-drift sweater, that hung on her beautifully. The white shorts were then replaced with a tan high waist skirt, that defined her curves. Shoes, weren't that big of a deal. She was in her house, and in all honesty, she couldn't do heels at the moment.

Rushing back over to her vanity, she tossled her hair a bit, deciding to leave it as it was. It didn't look that bad. She applied a bit of nude lipstick on, and then placed a bit of clear lipgloss over it to give it shine. After retouching her eye make up a bit, she gave a twirl in front of the mirror, and figured she was done. She may have lost her mind a bit, but she still knew how to look good while doing it.

"Okay," she sighed, walking out of her room. They would be using it later, but for now she just wanted to get a drink. With no sleep, she could use something to keep her awake when Aiden arrived. "Please, tell me there's still energy drinks..."

Walking into the kitchen, she hissed a bit as her bare feet hit the cool tile of the kitchen. She hurried over to the fridge on tip-toe, pulling it open with all her strength and viewing the contents. Orange Juice, Water, Unsweetened Tea, Red Bull-Ah! Red Bull it is. Her manicured fingers wrapped around the small can, and she slammed the fridge door shut with her hip, already popping it open, and putting it to her lips.

She gulped half of it down with in seconds, and when she lowered her head back down, eyes closed, she smiled to herself. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until the moisture had touched her tongue. Letting her eyes flutter open, they went wide, as she dropped the can and stumbled backwards into the kitchen counter, a yelp escaping her lips.

There, in front of her, was Stiles.

Only, it wasn't Stiles. He looked sick. Dark circles under his eyes, lips chapped beyond reason, skin whiter than snow. She could practically see his veins pumping blood from beneath his skin. And he had this look. A look she'd never seen on the face of Stiles Stilinski before. A look of pure evil.

"St-Stiles?" She breathed, legs trembling beneath her. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles didn't speak. He only tilted his head to the side.

"Stiles, you're scaring me."' She gasped, feeling her breath slowly escaping her.

This time he stepped forward, and Lydia flinched. Why wasn't he talking?

"Stiles!" She shouted then, trying to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

The door bell rang, and Lydia jumped, whipping her head to the side, her hair flying around her. Her world was blurred by her tears, and she blinked wildly in the direction of the door, mouth agape, before turning back to face the spot Stiles had stood. He was gone. She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes roaming the room, terrified.

"Lydia, It's Aiden!" A muffled voice called from behind her front door, going along with the knocking of his fist against the wood.

Lydia felt like she was stuck, not being able to move, frozen in fear. She stared at the small bubbles forming in the spilled red bull on the floor, and she didn't react as the liquid curled it's way around her feet.

Her front door creaked open, and although she could have sworn she locked it, she ignored those thoughts, as she saw a head poke through from the corner of her eye. "Lydia..?" Aiden called her name once more, his voice slightly echoing through the house.

Lydia slowly looked up at him, eyes blank and teary. Her entire body was shaking now, arms stiff at her sides.

"Oh my god, Lydia!" Aiden rushed over, not bothering to close the door behind him.

He'd lifted her out of the pool of liquid so quick, she hadn't even realized she was being moved until she was planted on her kitchen counter.

"Lydia?" Two hands cupped the sides of her face. "Lydia, look at me."

Lydia lifted her eyes, meeting Aiden's. "Aiden?"

"Yeah. It's me." Aiden nodded. "It's me."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Where is he!?"

Aiden frowned. "Where is who, Lydia?"

"Stiles!" She placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking them slightly.

"Woah, Lydia...What are you talking about?" He looked slightly annoyed at the mention of Stiles, but his concern seemed to mask that.

"He was here. He was in my house. But, there was something different about him." Lydia shook her head, sniffling. "Something's wrong, I know it."

Aiden tried to make sense of what she was saying. "Yeah, he has a Japanese dark spirit sitting inside of him."

"No! Aiden," She gripped his shoulders even tighter. "I think something happened. He was here. He was  _right here_. But it wasn't him."

Aiden stared at her for a moment, before realization swept over him. "You think the spirit has taken over him again?"

Lydia hadn't realized how much she didn't want to hear that, until it came out of Aiden's mouth. She quickly nodded. "We need to call Scott."

Aiden didn't hesitate, "Alright." he quickly fumbled for his phone in his pocket, slipping out and dialing the number he'd grown to know by heart. When the ringing began, he handed it to Lydia, who's shaking hands grasped it desperately.

Pressing the phone to her ear, Lydia begged for Scott to pick up, silently.

She didn't have to wait long, as it seemed he picked up almost instantly. "Aiden, I was just about to call you." his voice was laced with something that confirmed Lydia's fears.

"He's gone, isn't he?" she let out through trembling lips. "Stiles, he's...he's missing."

"Lydia?" Scott sounded surprised. "Uh, yeah, how did you know? Did you hear something?" Scott asked, knowingly.

"More like saw." Lydia looked towards Aiden, who nodded for her to continue. "Scott, he was here."

"Wait, what do you mean? He was at your house?" Lydia could hear Scott shushing a questioning Sheriff in the background.

"I think so. I'm not sure. One minute he was there. The next he wasn't." Lydia lifted her palm to her forehead, trying to recollect what she'd just encountered. "Something was wrong with him though. He wasn't himself. He was," she filed for a word. "He was  _terrifying_."

Scott fell silent, and Lydia knew he understood what that meant.

"Scott, we have to find him." Lydia spoke. "He's going to do something."

"I know." Scott sighed. Aiden stood up straight, folding his arms as he continued to listen in on the phone call. "Okay, you're with Aiden, right?"

"Yes." Lydia spoke quickly, meeting Aiden's frowned gaze.

"Good. You'll be safe. I need you two to help look for him. If we're going to find him, we need to do it quickly, and the only way to do that is by splitting into groups." Scott explained.

"I agree." Lydia slowly slid off her counter, her heart rate finally getting back to normal speed. She cringed as her feet felt sticky due to the drying energy drink.

"You and Aiden will look for Stiles around town. Any public area you think he would remember going to. The mall, The gas station, anywhere where you think he could cause harm to a large amount of people. Any place he could cause alot of chaos. Allison and I will look around the school and track. Sheriff and Argent are going to look around Stiles house and the station. We'll all meet back at Derek's. Sound okay to you two?" Scott completed, awaiting their agreement.

"Whatever you think is best, is what I'm going with." Lydia informed, walking around her kitchen island.

Aiden leaned his arms on the counter, eyeing her.

"Okay. Be careful. And keep in touch. If you two need help, scream, or call out. I'll hear you." He assured.

"Will do. Bye." Lydia chewed the inside of her lip.

"Bye." Scott hung up, and Lydia turned to Aiden, her breathing shaky.

"What happens if we don't find him?" Aiden raised his eyebrows. "How much damage could he do?"

"...Let's see. The last time the nogitsune took over, he shoved a sword through his best friends abdomen, and slammed Kira's head on a metal lab table." Lydia squinted her eyes. "You really want to risk seeing what he does next?"

"No, but if we need to find him before his next move, we shouldn't look in unlikely places." Aiden shrugged.

"What are you talking about." Lydia shook her head.

"When's the last time Stiles has gone to the mall Lydia?" Aiden said as if it was obvious. "I barely know the kid, but I know him enough to know that's not where he spends his spare time."

"So what's your point?" Lydia tucked a strand of hair behind her ears.

"Where would a nogitsune go, to cause chaos and strife, to a large amount of defenseless people? A place, that Scott ironically didn't think to check?" Lydia thought over Aiden's clues as he threw them out.

"..The hospital." Lydia whispered.

"Ding, Ding, Ding." Aiden spoke, a small smirk creeping on his lips.

* * *

Scott shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Alright, Lydia and Aiden know the plan. We should probably get going."

Allison's nodded. "I called my father. He's waiting for you at the station." she turned to Sheriff.

The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We're going to find him." Scott placed his hand on the Sherriff's shoulder. "I promise."

"Thank you, Scott. But I'm not so concerned about finding him, as I am about which state we're going to find him in."

Allison and Scott glanced at each other before Allison cleared her throat.

"Well, it doesn't matter. Because, no matter what the plan is to save him." Allison reminded. "Right, Scott?"

"Absolutely. I won't let anyone hurt him. The plan is to save him, and that's the plan I'm going with." Scott gave his shoulder a light squeeze.

"Alright." The Sheriff let out a tired sigh, before he let his hand drop. "Let's go catch my son."

* * *

Lydia sped around another corner, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Lydia, slow down." Aiden shrunk into his seat. "I can heal, but I'd rather not have to heal another broken spine."

"Sorry," Lydia breathed a laugh. "I just, I don't want to miss him."

"We won't." Aiden leaned his head back against the seat. "But we might, if you continue to just speed around right turns."

"What?" Lydia turned her wheel to the right again.

"You keep going right. That right there was your 4th one. I'm pretty sure four rights, equals a circle. Meaning our whole plan to check at the hospital is kind of failing right now." he chuckled.

"I'm just following the navigation system." Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Well, that must be hard. Considering it's not even on." Aiden tapped the screen.

Lydia snapped her head to look at the navigation screen. It was in fact blank. Just as he'd said.

"Oh no." Lydia gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "I need to pull over."

"What?"

"I need to pull over right now." Lydia began to grip at the wheel, spinning it at an unnatural speed.

"Lydia! Whoa!" Aiden's hand grabbed onto the door. "Lydia! Watch out!"

Lydia yanked the car to the left, losing track of where she was going.

"LYDIA!" Aiden shouted, his heart rate shooting up. "STOP!"

Lydia yelped, slamming her foot on the brake, causing the car to jerk forward, before coming to a complete stop.

The car was silent, only the sounds of loud gasps for air filling the surroundings.

Aiden was the first to speak. "What the hell was that?"

Lydia inched her eyes upward, looking through the windshield glass. In front of her, lying face up on the road, with blood seeping through his shirt, was Stiles Stilinski. He looked lifeless. As though he'd been dead for hours. This image was enough to cause Lydia to snap out of her trance.

"Stiles!" She shouted, pushing open her door, and hurrying around her car to get to him.

Aiden was quickly to her side, stopping her before she could reach the unconsious boy.

"Let go of me! He's dying!" Lydia struggled against him.

"No, he's not! Look!" Aiden pointed to Stiles, who's chest could be seen slowly rising and falling.

Lydia let out a sigh of relief, a single tear falling down her rosy cheek.

"Remember how Scott said, if we needed him, to scream?" Aiden didn't move his eyes from Stiles.

Lydia looked up at him.

"Lydia, scream."

Lydia then realized the burning sensation that had gained in her throat. She'd been so distracted, she didn't even pay attention to the signs her body was giving her. Without another moment of hesitation, she opened her lips, sucked in a breath, and let out a gut wrenching scream.


End file.
